Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

"Seems to me.," he said. 'that's advice you should be giving to Thatcher. He's the one who works around the clock these days."

I said nothing. He was right, of course.

But we shouldn't worry, should we?" he said, smiling again. "We have each other to keep us company when everyone else disappoints us."

He laughed again, and returned to his dinner.

Afterward, I retreated to my suite to do some studying. I ended my evening by checking on Mother, who had woken and had some tea, toast, and jelly brought to her.

"I'm just feeling a bit on the creaky side tonight," she claimed. "Now, don't go making those big eyes at me and talking about doctors and hospitals. You know how much I hate the thought of it."

"If you're not back to your usual self tomorrow--"

"I'll be back. I'll be back." she promised. She asked after Thatcher. and I told her about his meetings in Tallahassee, and then how Linden and I had enjoyed dinner together,

"He's involved in some new art project." I said. I repeated what he had said about attending college.

"Oh, that's wonderful. If only he does it."

"We'll see to it that he does," I assured her.

I returned to my suite and watched some television until my eyelids grew heavy. I even drifted off while the television was on. Finally I turned it off and put out the lights. In our king-size bed with its massive headboard, I felt more alone than ever tonight. In the relatively short time Thatcher and I had been together. I had grown accustomed to feeling him beside me. Hearing his steady breathing at night, or cuddling up to him when it rained, helped me feel secure.

At UNC and here. I had girlfriends who placed such a premium on their independence that they mocked me whenever I spoke about someone, especially a man, giving me that sense of security, whether it was my father, or my boyfriend, Allan, at North Carolina, or my husband.

"Men lord it over you when they realize that. It makes them feel superior and convinces them you should be beholden to them, be grateful they are there. I'll never let a man think that of me," I heard. I heard it in so many different ways and so often that at times I wondered if it wasn't true. if I wasn't too weak, too dependent after all.

And yet, wasn't it wonderful to find someone to whom you could cling and who would soothe and comfort you? Wasn't it good that we had a soft part to ourselves, a part to be loved and cherished. too? Did we always have to be on guard, ready to stand up for our rights? It gets tiring after a while. After a while you have to wonder what has been gained and what has been lost. There had to be a place of compromise, a place you both came to willingly, seeking ways to become important to each other, to become a part of each other, to lose a little of yourself in each other and move from "you and me" to "we."

I embraced Thatcher's pillow and inhaled the aroma of his cologne. I felt him beside me. and I closed my eyes and without fear let myself drift into sleep.

Maybe it was because of the conflict with Whitney, my worrying about Mother, and my conversations with Professor Fuentes, but my pleasant sailing into sleep on a soft bed of flowers was interrupted by a strangely vivid nightmare. In it, the door to my bedroom suite opened, and silhouetted in the hallway light was a male form. He came closer and closer to the bed. I felt myself cringing, pulling myself in so tightly I was in some pain. but I dared not cry out. I had to pretend to be asleep.

The figure stood there for the longest time, remaining still in the shadows. Then he stepped toward the bed, and I saw it was Linden and he was naked. He reached out to touch my hair. I didn't move a muscle. After a long moment, I sensed his turning and watched him drift away, float toward the door, closing it softly behind him. Still. I did not move. Finally, my body relaxed and I was able to drift back into dreamless sleep.

When I awoke in the morning, the nightmare was still quite vivid, so much so that I began to wonder if it had indeed occurred. I didn't dare ask Linden. and I couldn't mention it to Mother, of course. I just tucked it away in one of the darker places in my mind and hoped it would disappear, like a Ghost that had grown tired of haunting the same house.

This is all getting to me, I thought. I do need a holiday, no matter how short and sweet. The moment Thatcher returned, I reminded him of his promise, and he made the arrangements immediately.

"We'll have a bit of a second honeymoon," he promised.

"Good," I said "Ours was too short anyway." He laughed and hugged me.

"Willow, our marriage itself will always be like a honeymoon," he said.

I was so happy and excited about us going, but in the back of my mind I decided that my going or not would depend on Mother's health, Fortunately, she did improve over the next two days. Maybe she was putting on an act so I wouldn't hesitate to go, but if so, she was doing a good job of it. She ate better, went for her walks again, and even did a little shopping with me so I could act some things I needed for my weekend in the Bahamas.

And what a weekend it was!

Not once did Thatcher mention any of his work, any meetings, any clients. He didn't even bring his cell phone along!

"For the next forty-eight hours," he said, "I don't want to know about anything but you."

The moment we landed in Nassau, we were both giddy. As soon as we arrived at our hotel, we went out to the pool, swam, and drank something called a Miami Ice tea that Thatcher claimed was wonderful. It tasted wonderful, but I had no idea how potent it was, Later I found out it had vodka, peach schnapps, gin, and rum in it, as well as the sour mix and orange juice. We both had three. and I got into a laughing jag that I couldn't stop.

We had a room off the pool but toward the rear of the property, so it was isolated well behind trees and bushes. Thatcher decided that I'd had enough, especially when we realized we had been in the sun too long and were both quite red-faced. I didn't feel a thing and never realized I was getting a burn. He literally picked me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and carried me to our room. Once there, we began to make love almost immediately. My head was spinning from the drinks and now, making love as hard and as fast as we were, I felt I would pass out I might have, for all I knew.

Exhausted, we both fell asleep and didn't wake up until nearly 8 P.M. I was still groggy, but Thatcher had revived and, before I knew it. he was kissing and fondling my breasts, running his lips over the small of my stomach, and teasing me until we were at it again. Our lovemaking wasn't as soft and sensitive as it had been on our honeymoon and thereafter. It was more lusty and demanding.